[OPEN] we were strangers on a crazy adventure

[whattaprick]

Who: Lambert and YOU
When: In the time the Ringmaster gives them to make up their minds.
Where: In the newly-reformed Carnival.
What: Bother him about recent events and about the choices ahead.
Warnings: Lambert's potty mouth, references to past violence, etc.

The Carnival has really seen better days.

That's Lambert's first thought, at least, surveying what's left of his material possessions. Now that it isn't stuffed away in drawers or hidden in boxes, it mostly amounts to a not-inconsiderable amount of jewelry and various novelty clothing, as well as some of the Solstice presents he received with less military applications. Pig and Butcher have been left free to wander around as they please in the stripped-down Carnival while Lambert lazily flicks through his belongings -- a book here, a necklace there -- and sorts through it all. Perhaps surprisingly, for the amount of time they've been with the Carnival, there isn't too much.

When he hears someone else come up to him, he speaks without looking over his shoulder, the flat joke varying:

"What do you think the chances are of her bringing back the springs right now?"

"Seems like a good time for a nap, doesn't it?"

"So, you made up your mind about becoming a god or not yet?"

Comments

[atouts]

"Just about anything, if what we've seen with Strange and Steven tell us anything," Childermass says. He'll look the golden chain over a bit longer before rising back to stand and pocketing it. It may be cheap, but it is shiny, and the urge take it with is so second-nature that he doesn't even think about it.

"And seeing how they turned out, yes, I would think a little worry should be involved."

[whattaprick]

“And Syrlya and Carly,” Lambert says lazily, in case Childermass forgot to round out his list of people. “Might have more to do with them not getting to choose what they were getting into.”

He flexes a hand, absently, tail curling slightly. “Maybe that’s the kind of change we need. Maybe it’s enough power to change some of the things we don’t want.”

Like being half flesh and half exposed metal bone.

[atouts]

It isn't that Childermass forgot them, just that two cases stood out more blatantly in his mind. Though Lambert may have a point, that doesn't stop the magician's expression from growing a bit skeptical at the entire 'change' talk he gives.

He can't help but let his gaze flicker down to the tail as it curls, then back again. It's simple enough to figure out part of what Lambert may want to be altered.

"You're really going to take on god-like power for vanity's sake?"

[whattaprick]

“What else is god-like power good for?” Lambert asks, raising a hand, lazily waving it around them. “It’s the power the Ringmaster used to start a carnival with, isn’t it? Maybe I can use it to grow a pair of tits while I’m at it, so England doesn’t hang us.”

That’s assuming Childermass still wants to go back, anyway, but there’s no real reason to think that’s changed. Childermass has been stolidly planning on picking up those terribly boring duties this whole time, so it’s likely still the same.

[atouts]

Childermass isn't even going to point out the Ringmaster being created with that power already, all because Lambert suggesting he might grow tits is a mite more distracting. The magician makes a dismayed noise, giving him a terribly scandalized look at the very notion.

"Lambert, you... You would need much more than just a pair of breasts to fool anyone for that, Lambert."

God, he doesn't want to picture breasts on manly Lambert, as he is right now. He never asked for this image.

[whattaprick]

Childermass should really know better than to show weakness, because like a shark scenting blood in the water, Lambert grins horribly at the first sign of discomfort. If anything, he'd expected a jibe about how they're plenty big enough, but since the magician's giving him the opportunity...

"You'd be surprised what you can get away with when people don't want to see," he declares cheerfully. "Breasts and a corset and a skirt make a woman as far as most people care to look, and if Mr. Childermass's wife is a little on the heavy side, who's going to say that to his face?"

[atouts]

"Quite a few, actually," Childermass states with a complete and utter belief that, yes, they will, just with a more careful choice of words. Not that he would care about their opinions, regardless of what size his wife may or may not be. Lambert pretending to be his wife, though?

Yeah, it's still an image he's having trouble swallowing, which isn't going to help with giving Lambert less ammo to pick on him with here.

"I'm not even sure there are corsets your size."

[whattaprick]

"Shows what you know," Lambert scoffs. "That shit's got to be made to measure, doesn't it? I'm sure I can't be the biggest lady they've had to measure."

[atouts]

"You aren't even a lady," Childermass points out, still being a big ol' ball of scandalized 1800s dicks about it. He shifts his weight from one foot to another but decides against pacing about, meaning he settles on putting his hands on his hips instead, just to do something with them.

"But I imagine that's where the godly power of a Miracle comes in, doesn't it?"

[whattaprick]

"The power to make some real godly tits," Lambert agrees, continuing to show entirely no remorse whatsover for putting that particular mental image in Childermass's head. Though on the subject of becoming a woman, even temporarily, he probably looks much too thoughtful about the mere idea for Childermass's comfort.

"Don't think I'd like being stuck that way, but anything's worth trying once."

[atouts]

"Of all the reasons..." Childermass mutters before deciding to straight up just sit down on the newly grass-covered ground next to the pile of random shit from the trailer. At least he's not just ditching Lambert completely, so there's that?

"Not that I have any idea of what I would do. I keep thinking it would mean giving up the last of what makes me human."

[whattaprick]

And since Childermass has elected to stay, Lambert will come over and sprawl on the grass next to him, hands pillowing his head as he regards the magician lazily.

“Depends. Which part of being human are you worried about losing, exactly? Because that’s a lot of things.”

[atouts]

"I don't even know anymore," Childermass answers lamely after a particularly long silence of staring off ahead of them. "If I really think about it, remaining as I am won't fix the biggest problem. Being only half fae will always be a weakness."

[whattaprick]

Lambert shifts, reaching out so he can rest the fingers of one hand against Childermass's thigh. For once, it's not a prelude to anything lewder (yet), just a solid reassurance of his physical presence since Childermass looks to be thinking hard enough for his head to pop off.

"S'far as I can tell, it's not really going to make us into fae, either," he offers. "We won't be part of Winter or Summer." Which might make it better or worse from Childermass's perspective.

"You don't have to take it if you feel that crappy about it. You're not the only one who's choked up about it." Okay, so that sample size currently consists of 1. Yuya, and 2. Papyrus, sort of. Everyone else seems to be handling the imminent loss of remaining dregs of mortality pretty well.

[atouts]

It's almost an automatic response to move a hand and lay it over Lambert's at this point, even if he does keep staring off across the realm.

"Being apart from Winter would only be another positive," Childermass admits. He'll heave a sigh and slowly go from sitting to sprawling out on the grass alongside the witcher. "I don't know if I would call it a 'crappy' feeling. It's that it all seems so self-indulgent to me and you know how I am."

Barely ever taking anything for his own, never more than he can easily back into one bag and move on from, and never, ever paying more for anything than he absolutely has to. He's always lived a sparse and frugal life, the only real deviations coming after he'd signed himself up for a year and a day in this mess of a carnival.

[whattaprick]

And as Childermass sprawls, Lambert twists his hand around to keep ahold of him, ending up holding each other's fingers in the grass.

"Hmm," he pretends to think about it, grinning up at the sky. "A bigger self-indulgence than me?"

Because as far as deviations from Childermass's routine go, the witcher's arguably the biggest.

[atouts]

"Bigger, yes, but you'll always be the one who'll confuse everyone," Childermass says with a quiet laugh, looking over at him. "Although I suspect no one ever had an idea of who or what I might like to begin with."

It'll be a mystery, just one more on top of all the others about Mr. Childermass.

"This, though... I would be able to protect myself from the Count. From any of the fae. We could still visit other worlds. We could go back to Alola or the Summerlands whenever we felt like it or even just travel my own world. There are so many places I've never seen even just there."

[whattaprick]

That “no one” probably including Childermass himself, but the witcher won’t point it out.

“Yeah, you’d need some way of taking a break from all the bullshit,” Lambert agrees. “Being able to go sightseeing to different worlds whenever we want is a pretty good use for that.”

[atouts]

"We'd have to figure out how to do it," Childermass says. He supposes they could just ask the Ringmaster for pointers or, at the very least, directions. "And keep what we are to ourselves. I'm not sure I'm up to any more helpful interventions."

Sure, he says that now...

[whattaprick]

“You think that’s going to be a problem?” Lambert asks, with genuine curiosity. He doesn’t really understand what Childermass means by that, so hopefully the tip of his head and the curiosity in his expression sufficiently convey the need for more information here...

[atouts]

"Between your tendency to pick fights and my perchance for actually doing the right thing?" Childermass asks in return, turning his head to look over Lambert's way. He raises his eyebrows as if judging that this even needs to be asked at all.

"Do you really think it won't be?"

[whattaprick]

Lambert gets it now, maybe, and he laughs lowly, pushing himself up from his sprawl on the ground so he can lean on one arm, hovering over the magician.

"So you want to keep being a world-hopping do-gooder?" he teases. "Why, Mr. Childermass. That's very noble of you."

[atouts]

"No, Mr. Lambert, I meant entirely the opposite," Childermass disagrees, though not without a laugh of his own. Of all the things to take away from that... He peers up at the witcher as he leans over him like that. "I just doubt the possibility highly."

[whattaprick]

"You know what I think?" Lambert grins, not waiting for Childermass to answer the rhetorical question he obviously feels like he already has the answer to. He leans a little closer, until they're the width of a hand apart from being nose to nose.

"I think you've gotten used to trouble. And part of you might actually like it."

[atouts]

Childermass wrinkles his nose at that thought but he won't disagree as Lambert lingers ever closer over him. Instead, he pulls an arm in just to reach up and give one of the witcher's ears a tweak.

"You know what I think? That you're to blame for that," he replies. "Falling in love with you must have been the start of it."